


unless you do it without me

by fruitbattery



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, they/them Mollymauk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 02:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16822897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitbattery/pseuds/fruitbattery
Summary: Molly is so many things, to so many people.





	unless you do it without me

To Jester, Molly is a mirror. She sees herself in them from the minute they meet, the two who stick out like sore thumbs everywhere they go.

Molly is the feeling of burning up, her ice-cold skin melting as they breathe and surge together all those late nights.

To Fjord, Molly is the best fighting partner he’s had in a while. The wind off their swords, flashing in a wheel of gold and steel, as he fires off another Eldritch Blast at a pesky gnoll.

Molly is the glimmer of jewelry out of the corner of Fjord’s eye as he slumps, exhausted, into the cart to sleep.

To Yasha, Molly is a smooth-talking money maker. Dextrous flourishes with their cards, and those people skills, two things Yasha will never possess.

Molly is comfort, during late nights when she’s had to subdue or throw out a rowdy patron. They’re always there with a joke or a fortune. Yasha knows the cards are bullshit, but that doesn’t negate the fact that Molly always seems to know which one to pick to make her feel good about herself.

To Beau, Molly is an outlet for her contempt. She doesn’t hate them, doesn’t even dislike them, but their easy good humor in response to every insult Beau flings their way is a great comfort.

Molly is a slowly forming sibling, especially during their late night watches. Between the two of them, they cover punching, slashing, and magic, so they’re always pretty confident that they can handle whatever the darkness throws at them.

To Caleb, Molly is possibility. The way his heart skips a beat when he sees Molly charming the pants (sometimes literally) off of whatever random person they’ve just met. The way his body overflows with heat when they get close to him.

Molly is fascination, fighting with techniques so starkly different to his. Molly’s use of words to bend others to their will, the way Caleb thinks he will never be able to manage.

To Nott, Molly is sweetness and understanding. Another outcast by virtue of species, dancing with her like they’re the only ones in the room.

Molly is friendship, giving her advice on who to steal from. Understanding, supportive even, of her lifestyle. Maybe even more than Caleb.

To all of them, Molly is fun. The scrapes they get everyone into, the endless drinking they inspire. The impressive way they can outdrink everyone except for Nott.

Molly is pain. A great, jagged hole, a sudden gasp. A spray of blood across the face of a shockingly powerful man. An accidental self sacrifice. A shock, a tragedy. A loss.

A figure, unbelievably small and still so purple, wrapped in a flamboyant tapestry. (I am your god, long may I reign. Eat of my fruits.)

A tear, a prayer, a sniffle. A bright light in the darkness of every podunk town in the Empire. The smell of incense and herbal vapors. The colorful eye of a peacock feather.

A lonely, flamboyant coat, swaying in the breeze.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "Dancing's Not a Crime" by Panic! at the Disco.


End file.
